


Following Winter

by blakefancier



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-26
Updated: 2011-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:13:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake enjoys himself at a Solstice Festival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Following Winter

The night is far too warm for a bonfire. Blake whispers this to Jenna, but she silences him with a look. She seems to be enjoying the Solstice Festival with its thinly veiled rituals hailing the coming spring.

The people of the village are celebrating, dancing around the fire, their bodies flushed and slick from exertion and the heat. Surrounded by laughing, smiling, happy people, Blake feels out of place. It is not a new feeling.

Later, when the dancing and ritual feasting is over, when they have sung the songs of their dead, these people, the Lacedonians, will give gifts to one another. The children will rip and tear the colored paper from their presents, unable to bear the anticipation. They will laugh and hug and play with their new toys

Blake's hands feel the ghost of a memory; the rough feel of paper as he slides a finger under a taped edge, the way the adhesive gives under pressure to show a bit of grey metal that is cool to the touch.

He sighs and wipes his palms against his thighs. The smoke from the fire burns his eyes and he blinks away the wetness. When his gaze clears his eyes light on the young man with mahogany hair and sun-browned skin. The one he has been watching all day. The boy dances with abandon, each step a challenge to the other dancers, an assertion that he is the best. Blake remembers the boy has dark eyes, bold eyes.

He looks like Avon might have at twenty.

Blake wants to take the boy to bed. He closes his eyes against the thought and wishes for a drink. He wants to be far from this planet, on the Liberator again or maybe back home, so far back that Aeryn and Dayvid and his mum are still alive.

Home, then, was a place fraught with unacknowledged danger. His dad was dead and his mum was an off-worlder, and for Solstice she would give small gifts with the warning that he, that they, never tell a soul.

'Shhh,' his mum would say, 'It's a secret.'

Looking from Jenna to the boy Blake realizes he has other secrets now. He hates secrets, hates that he must hide bits of himself.

He opens his eyes. The boy is coming toward him, his stride long and smooth. He feels his breath hitch in his throat and his cock stirs.

The boy stands in front of him and smiles. "You look unhappy."

"Do I?" His eyes follow a droplet of sweat that slides down the side of the boy's face.

"Yes, and hot." He presses up against Blake and puts his hand on Blake's hip. "Perhaps you'd like to cool off in my quarters."

His mouth goes dry and he thinks about kissing the boy, right there in front of everyone. "How old are you?"

The boy's thigh presses against his groin. "Twenty-three."

He knows he shouldn't. "Where?"

*****

The boy's room is dark and stifling hot. He reaches out a hand, running it across the boy's cheek, tangling it in wet hair. He's hungry for the body pushing against him and so he presses his lips to the presented mouth, once, twice.

"My name is Mekai," the boy says before twining his arms around Blake's neck.

His free hand runs up and down the boy's--Mekai's naked back. He enjoys the feel of skin, smooth and warm. He loves the way Mekai feels, the way he smells. He licks the sweat from Mekai's shoulder.

"Please," the boy says, "please."

And Blake slips his fingers into the spaces between the buttons on the boy's trousers. He tugs slightly and they give. He pulls the trousers down, stroking thighs, knees, calves and feet. He kisses the tip of the boy's cock, licking away the wetness.

His mouth wants filling.

He wants, but the boy is tugging on his hair. Then the boy is undressing him.

And they are on the bed, and Mekai's legs are spread and he is between them. Fucking. The sheets are damp from their sweat and he's grunting. They have all night.

*****

For the longest night of the year, morning comes too soon.

"You leave today," Mekai says.

"Yes." He is tying his shoes.

"You won't come back."

"No, probably not." He looks at the boy sprawled on the bed. "Your people say they have no need for my alliance."

"I won't see you again." The boy hesitates. "I could come with you."

He thinks about it for a second, having this boy with him. Then he thinks about the disapproving looks, the disgust. He thinks about Mekai's body shredded by a pulse rifle and his eyes dull from torture.

"No, you could not come with me." He leans over and kisses the boy's mouth.

"Why not?"

'Because you are too young,' he thinks. 'Because I want something that I have touched to be unaffected by the Federation. Because, for these few hours, I loved you and your innocence.'

"Your family needs you here."

He shrugs on his shirt and before he can button it up, Mekai grasps his hands.

"You're still unhappy. No one should be unhappy at Solstice."

"I don't celebrate the solstice."

Mekai kisses his hands, pity in his eyes. "You should still be happy."

He shakes his head and kisses the boy's mouth. "Promise me this then. Next Solstice Festival, when you sing your remembrances, sing one for me."

"We only sing remembrances for those who have passed on." Mekai's voice is soft and he squeezes Blake's hands.

"I know." He can say no more.

The boy nods. "I will, until the day I die."

Blake pulls away from the boy and does not look back as he leaves.

Jenna says nothing when they meet for breakfast; she just stares at him and frowns. He looks past her, out the window, to the winter-barren fields and thinks of spring.


End file.
